Heaven's Gates
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: Post-Supernatural season 6 finale; Chloe Sullivan, who has been helping Castiel fight the war for souls, steps into Sam and Dean's lives and makes quite an impression
1. Chapter 1

–1–

"I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God, a better one. So you will bow down and profess your love to me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you."

Dean, Bobby, and Sam stared in shock and horror, knowing better than to think it was a joke. Castiel didn't joke.

Desperate, Dean tried to reason with him again, "Cas...come on. This isn't you. It's the power talking. You've got to–" He stopped, swallowing tightly when Castiel gave him an ominous look.

"Cas, wait!" a woman's voice interrupted them from the top of the staircase. The three men looked up in surprise to see a delicate-looking blonde woman gazing down at Castiel.

"Chloe," Castiel greeted simply.

She rushed down the stairs, grinning, and once she reached the bottom, to everyone else's shock, she wrapped her arms around Castiel's neck and hugged him. "You did it. I knew you would. I knew everything would turn out all right."

Castiel, even the new Castiel, stood somewhat awkwardly, eventually patting her back lightly, as if part of him welcomed the hug but also felt like she should be quaking in fear, too. But she didn't. She released him and with an incredibly calm expression, she spoke to him as she always had. "Castiel, please don't kill them. You'll regret it later if you do. You love these guys."

"I can always bring them back," Castiel said with that eerie matter-of-fact mannerism he had, and their three companions flinched.

If Chloe was surprised by this response, she didn't show it, and she recovered quickly. "Y–es," she said slowly, "but Castiel, please, I'm asking for loving and merciful here, not vengeful and spiteful. Please." She gave him a fervent look.

The other three looked on as their fates lay in the hands of this inexplicable woman. Each felt as though he should do something but kept his mouth shut for fear of making things worse.

"They're just in shock right now. It's a lot to take in. You know they love and respect you, but they're only human after all. It takes time to register something like this."

"You seem to be taking it well," Castiel said dryly, narrowing his eyes.

Chloe smirked, but Dean caught the slight flush on her face. "Yeah, well, I'm a woman. I handle change better."

There was a momentary pause as Castiel seemed to consider this, but Chloe might have been more nervous than she let on. With a wary glance at Sam, she continued, bringing her voice down a little lower, as if she didn't want the others to hear.

"Please, Cas, let me take them out of here. You know that Sam needs my help right now. He won't last much longer in this state. I can take care of him. All of them," she added. "Besides, I imagine you have other things to deal with right now."

It appeared she had played her final card, Dean realized, because she took a nearly imperceptible step back and waited for Castiel to make a decision.

Finally, he nodded, saying simply, "Fine," and Dean couldn't prevent the audible sigh of relief he released. Bobby shot him a warning look that said quite clearly, "Don't blow the deal, ijit."

The blonde woman–Chloe–seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she shot Dean a similar look.

When they turned back to Castiel, he had vanished.

Dean frowned. "What the–"

"Shut up. Where's the Impala?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your car, Dean, where's your car?" Chloe said. "We're leaving. _Yesterday_," she added for emphasis, leading the way up the stairs. "Somebody help Sam."

Dean, disliking being in the dark when she clearly knew _everything_, started to protest. "Listen–"

"Dean," she interrupted, glancing over her shoulder, "_now_."

Dean looked at his brother, who was on the verge of collapsing, and rushed to him, throwing Sam's arm over his shoulders so he could help his brother up the stairs. He glanced at Bobby, who still looked stunned at everything that had happened. "Bobby?" he growled.

Bobby started slightly and made his way up the stairs after Chloe.

Satisfied, Chloe nodded to herself. "And the car?" she added.

"Side of the road out back."

"Keys."

"Look, lady–"

"_Keys_, Dean."

Growling under his breath about high-handed blondes, Dean shoved a hand in his pocket and–though everything in him screamed in protest–tossed her the keys.

* * *

><p><em>At least she drives well<em>, Dean grumbled to himself in the back seat, his eyes darting nervously from his trembling brother to the mystery-woman driving his car.

Bobby had been the first to belt out questions to her, but she had refused answers, saying it could all wait until later.

As she pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel, however, Dean was getting impatient.

"Look–"

"First we need to get Sam upstairs. He's not going to last much longer."

Indeed, Sam was now shivering, going into some sort of shock, or possibly a seizure, so Dean staid his arguments, if only for the moment. Instead he leapt out of the car, rushing to the other side to help Sam out. "Where are we?" he asked Chloe when she stepped out of the car, closing the passenger door when Bobby got out and then tossing a valet the keys.

"My penthouse," she said calmly, standing beside Bobby. "Bobby," she looked at him, "I imagine there are some phone calls you need to make as soon as possible."

He looked surprised, but nodded.

She pulled a wallet out of her back pocket and fished out some cash, handing it to him. "Take a cab home. That should cover it." He looked ready to protest, but Chloe smirked. "I'll have them call and fill you in when I've finished answering their questions."

Bobby shook his head. "I'm too old for this," he muttered, as he started to head for the waiting line of taxis queued beside the hotel.

"Bobby?" she called after him suddenly. He turned to look at her. "I–I'm sorry about Dr.–about Ellie. There was nothing I could do for her," she said sadly.

Chest tightening, Bobby made no reaction to her strange statement, but finally nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Sure," he said gruffly. He turned to Dean, who was holding a groaning Sam. "You call me the second you get the chance."

Dean was about to say something, but Chloe had appeared on Sam's other side, sliding her arm underneath him as well to help Dean. "Isn't someone going to have a problem with us half-carrying him through the lobby?" he demanded, getting fed up with the fact that every time he tried to ask something, she cut him off.

She only shook her head as they helped Sam toward the door. "No. I have a no questions policy with them. If someone _does_ say something, he's my cousin. He was mugged outside a bar this evening and he has epilepsy."

Dean glared at her but her attention wasn't on him anymore. It was on a rather wrinkled doorman, who hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow at her peculiar companions.

"Miss Chloe," he greeted, nodding his head slightly, "do you require my assistance?" he asked.

Chloe smiled at him and shook her head. "Thank you, David, but we've got it."

"Yes, Miss," he conceded as they passed him. "You do bring home a lot of strays, don't you, Miss Chloe?"

Chloe laughed at his almost affectionate comment, "You have no idea, David. Have a good night," she said over her shoulder.

"You, too, Miss Chloe."

"Miss Chloe?" Dean echoed mockingly when the sliding doors had shut behind them and they started making their way through the gilded lobby. "And you live in the penthouse? What are you, some kind of heiress or something?"

Chloe laughed. "Hardly."

"How do you know Castiel?"

She sighed, "Dean, please, can we wait until we're upstairs?"

"How do you know my name?"

She gave a short, tired laugh as she hit the button for the elevator. "Castiel talks about you a lot."

"You've got to be kidding me."

She smirked. "Well, that, and he frequently vanishes mid-conversation because one of you is calling him. You're a rather demanding pair, you know that?" she asked.

Dean was about to respond, but the elevator arrived at that moment, and there was an operator inside.

"Hello, Miss Chloe," said a young man, who, like the doorman, was strangely unsurprised by her two male companions. "Top floor?" he asked pleasantly.

"Please," she gave a strained smile beneath Sam's weight.

"He all right?" the young man asked. "Anything I can do?"

Chloe shook her head. "We just need to get him upstairs. He had a nasty shock. He'll be fine."

He nodded, and that was the end. Apparently she really did have a no-questions policy at the hotel, Dean surmised. Who was this crazy woman?

When they made it to her suite, Dean had to do his best to keep his eyes from popping out. Even if he weren't accustomed to cheap motels with scratchy sheets, he would have had to appreciate the absolute luxury she appeared to be living in. "How do you afford this place?" he asked as they laid Sam on the couch. He looked at his violently seizing brother with worry. "What happened to him? Is he going to be all right?"

Chloe smiled softly at his sudden change of concern, and the obvious anxiety in his voice when his attention turned to his brother. "Balthazar set me up here," she answered his first question. "And yes. I'm going to take care of him. When Castiel..." she paused uncomfortably, then started again. "Sam's mind is completely back together. He remembers the last year. And he remembers Hell."

Dean looked sharply at her. "Cas did that to him? Cas tore down the damn wall?" he demanded angrily. "Shit," he swore.

But Chloe was shaking her head. "Not...not exactly. Cas tore down the wall that Death put up to protect Sam. After that...I imagine Sam experienced some sort of coma, the result of which was that he managed to piece his mind back together again...for better or worse," she muttered seriously.

Dean swallowed tightly. "You said you could help him. What are you going to do?"

Chloe was shrugging off her jacket, and for the first time, Dean noticed that she was wearing leather gloves. He wasn't sure why it seemed important, but for some reason the fact that she left them on caught his attention. "I'm going to try. I've never done anything like this before," she said. "This isn't so much a physical injury as it is his soul and–" she hesitated. "Well, I've never done anything like that," she repeated. "And I've already discovered that I have certain limits this week," she added ruefully.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, tired of her cryptic speech.

She took a deep breath and looked Dean in the eye. "I'm going to try to make this explanation quick, so you can know what's going on. But in exchange, I need you to follow my instructions to the letter, understand?"

Dean's instinct was to argue, but her expression stopped him. "Fine."

"As a result of excessive exposure to radioactive meteor rocks, a few years ago I developed a mutation, an ability." She took a deep breath. "I had the ability to heal people."

Dean gaped at her.

"One very long story later, I lost my power. A few months ago, Castiel approached me. He offered me a deal. He would restore my powers and give me the opportunity to save someone I had lost...someone who died because of me. In exchange, he asked me to help him in the battle for souls. By healing people, saving them when they were on the brink of death, I was able to procure souls without necessarily going against Fate. Unlike his brilliant _Titanic_ idea," she added sourly, shaking her head.

Trying rapidly to keep up with what she was telling him, Dean stopped her. "You said you discovered your limits."

She nodded sadly. "I tried to save Dr. Eleanor. Apparently, there are some beings...some non-humans, that I have no effect on." She looked away, clearly not comfortable with admitting her own failures. "I tried."

"And you can help Sam?"

She nodded slowly, coming back to the present. "I think so."

"Well get a friggin' move on," Dean said, trying to hold his temper as Sam groaned in pain.

She huffed her breath impatiently. "I'm getting to that. Dean, when I first had my power, it came at a cost. When I healed a serious injury, I gave up my own life-force. I can't give without also taking. When Cas restored my power, he improved it, so that that doesn't usually happen anymore."

"Usually?" Dean repeated dubiously.

She nodded weakly. "It's like I said, Dean, I'm about to attempt to heal his _soul_. Not to mention his seriously over-burdened mind. Something like that isn't going to come without a cost," she warned. "I need you to promise me. No hospitals. No doctors. For the love of God, _no morgues_," she emphasized. "Put me in the bedroom and just let me be. Understand?"

"Sure, but–"

He was cut off when Chloe suddenly kissed him.

"What the hell?"

She lifted a shoulder and dropped it, the corner of her mouth twitching. "This might not work out so great for me, and I always promised myself I'd do that if I ever met you."

"You are one crazy bitch."

Chloe wasn't paying him any attention anymore, though. As soon as she got her confirmation, she turned to Sam, rubbing a soothing hand over his forehead. "Okay, Sam. It's going to be okay."

Dean watched, transfixed, as she slipped off her gloves one finger at a time, and laid them delicately on the end table. Then she brushed the hair out of Sam's agonized face, closed her eyes, and rested a hand over his heart. Dean fell back a step in surprise when a brilliant white light began to emanate from her hand, slowly encompassing Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

–2–

Chloe opened her eyes and took in her surroundings in surprise. "I'm in–"

"Heaven," a voice finished for her.

She turned to look at Castiel. "–Oliver Queen's Metropolis apartment," she finished, brows arched.

Castiel looked around objectively. "It would appear so. You know, I found it ironic the first time you asked me what Heaven was like. Since you've been here before. Multiple times."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"This is a new addition, admittedly," he said, examining the penthouse.

"Why would my Heaven be Oliver's penthouse?"

"What kind of memories do you have here?" he asked.

Her mind flashed back to the first time she'd walked off the elevator on the nearest wall, how Oliver had nicknamed her Sidekick, stuck her behind a computer, and given her purpose, an active role in guiding the people she cared about to safety.

She smiled softly, walking over to the computer console, where she realized she was able to check on all of her friends. A list like twitter statuses gave her an update on each of them.

**Lois Lane **is falling in love.

**Bart Allen** is eating Mexican food on the Gulf Coast.

**Oliver Queen** is in a business meeting and thinking about a new arrow design.

**Moira Sullivan** is enjoying the sunshine on her face.

**Clark Kent **is falling in love.

She unwillingly wrenched her eyes from the screen and its list to look at Castiel, whose eyes she could feel on her.

"There are other areas," he informed her. "Not just this one. If you enter the elevator, I believe you'll find yourself in your high school newspaper office–"

"_The Torch_," Chloe supplied, smiling affectionately at the idea.

"There's also Clark Kent's barn, and a park where your mother took you when you were five."

Chloe felt her eyes watering, and she smiled.

"So how is Sam?" Castiel asked her.

Chloe quirked an eyebrow at him. "You tell me."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not afraid of me," he stated simply, and Chloe couldn't tell if he was pleased or displeased by the fact.

She sighed, sitting down on Oliver's couch. "I'm not the quake in fear before my God type, Cas," she said. "I'm more of the love and respect type. Besides, do you really want the first kind?" she asked.

He said nothing and she shook her head.

"Cas, this isn't you. Since when did you aspire to become God?" she asked, hoping she didn't provoke him.

"It's for the best. I will be a better God. I won't abandon–"

"That's not what I asked."

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Cas, you're jacked up on power, and forgive me, but it's going to your head. You were one of the most loyal Angels to ever exist. Even when you learned that God had taken a holiday, you still had faith in Him. When Lucifer tried to destroy the world, you stood up and protected God's creation. When Raphael went rogue and tried to take over Heaven, you stood up for the angels and went into battle. What changed? Since when do you want to be the man in charge?"

He glowered. "Since I realized I could do it better than anyone else."

She chuckled. "You let Crowley lead you down a dark path–_good intentions or not,_" she added quickly, seeing the dark look that flashed across his face. "Doesn't everyone always say that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions?"

"You never objected."

"Out loud. I was too busy being grateful to you for saving Jimmy. And anyway, while I wasn't a huge fan of the method, I did still believe in the cause."

"You saved Jimmy," Castiel pointed out.

Chloe shook her head. "You gave me back my power, took me back in time, and mind-melded him so that he wouldn't remember meeting me. You're the reason he's going to end up at the Daily Planet again someday, famous for his pictures of Clark."

"You're welcome."

Chloe laughed.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're an all-powerful deity and you're still awkward." She gave him an affectionate look. She drifted into a little sigh, and continued. "You know, I'm worried for you."

"Why?"

She looked up at him soberly. "An angel gets angry and raises an army in Heaven. Sound familiar?"

He nodded. "Lucifer."

Chloe eyed him steadily. "Not...just Lucifer."

Castiel didn't respond, but Chloe didn't say anything else, realizing there was only so much at a time she could say to him before he would probably lose his patience with her. Love and respect, sure. But she wasn't an idiot, either.

Finally, he asked her, "Do you want to stay?"

Chloe blinked once before realizing what he meant. She looked around her a little wistfully. "Kind of. But I suppose I shouldn't, should I?"

He smirked. "Dean will be very confused if you do."

"Castiel, you know they weren't just saying those things because they were afraid of you. They care about you."

"Which is why Sam tried to kill me."

"They also care about the rest of the world more than they care about their own feelings," she added with a shrug. "You're the one who told me that."

"They fought against me."

"They did what they thought was right."

"I'm sending you back now."

"You can't just send me back because you–"

* * *

><p>Chloe gasped for air, shooting up in bed.<p>

"Holy SHIT!" a gravelly voice exclaimed. "Don't–ever–friggin'–_do that again!_"

Panting for breath, she turned an ironic expression to Dean, who had apparently been asleep in the chair. "Sam?" she breathed out the question.

"Fine. He's helping Bobby."

"How long?"

"What?"

She closed her eyes. "How long was I out?"

"A day and a half. I'm getting Sam. You...just...don't move," he directed her uncomfortably.

Chloe flopped back in bed and rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

–3–

"Where is she going? Where are you going?" Sam asked first Dean then Chloe directly when they approached the room only to find her out of bed.

She laughed weakly. "I'm going to take a shower. I'm kind of...freezing, really," she admitted. "Side effect," she added in a murmur. "Forgot how much I hated this part."

"Chloe, I–" Sam started, but she held up a hand.

"Don't worry about it. Are you all right?" she asked.

He chuckled feebly. "Yeah. I am."

She smiled, the first truly genuine, warm smile either of them had seen on her, and even Dean found himself smiling back. "Good," she said, relief in her voice. "And Bobby got everything he needed done? Informed all the right people of what's happened?"

Dean nodded.

"I just got off the phone with him," Sam told her.

She nodded tiredly. "Good. Now, if you boys will excuse me..." she tipped her head indicatively toward the bathroom.

"Right, of course."

"Sure."

They backed out of her room, and Chloe released a grateful breath before walking over to her closet to lay out a cotton dress and a cardigan to go with it. Then she headed to the bathroom and slowly started peeling off her clothes. She tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground, then reached for the button and zipper on her pants. A pity. She'd liked the jeans she was wearing, but she'd get rid of them anyway now. They would always remind her of death after this, so she wouldn't wear them again no matter how much she _had_ liked them. Slowly, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, breathing in relief when it was off and her breasts were unrestrained. She rubbed the red indentations in her skin where the underwire had left her sore before sliding off her underwear.

She wrapped a soft white towel around her body and headed to the shower to turn the water all the way to hot, sticking a hand under the near-scorching water and groaning as it brought feeling back into her chilled fingers.

"Thank you, God," she murmured as steam rose up around her in the bathroom. She dropped the towel and stepped under the stream of water, moaning as it practically hissed on her skin. She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders a little before leaning against the wall, too exhausted to bother scrubbing. Instead she let the water beat down on her as her mind floated involuntarily back to when Castiel had first appeared in her life.

For weeks she had cried, prayed, begged for God to bring them both back. By the time Castiel appeared, she had no tears left, only red, dry eyes and trembling hands.

He told her he'd come to answer her prayers, but when she'd asked God to fix it, Castiel had been the last thing she'd been expecting.

But Castiel had given her the chance to save them both. She'd been tempted to leave Davis for dead, but Castiel said he would fix it so that Davis didn't remember any of his time in Metropolis. He'd sent Davis, who was now entirely free of Doomsday, to a small town in Alaska where he worked a paper-work job at a hospital–helping people, but generally removed from them.

Jimmy, on the other hand...his memory had been a little more selectively altered. His experience at the Daily Planet stayed, but other people's minds had to be corrected to remember him as alive...most importantly, his family. Jimmy, with no memories of ever having reunited with Chloe Sullivan after his brief summer internship in high school, returned home to rekindle his relationship with his family. Eventually, Castiel had told her, he would return to work at the Daily Planet, becoming synonymous with the name Lois Lane, working alongside her to make famous one of the world's greatest heroes.

In exchange, Chloe had left her home to go with Castiel. She would have said goodbye to someone, except...there was no one to say goodbye to. Aside from Lois, everyone else was gone, refusing to take her calls, to let her know whether they were all right.

Castiel had offered her purpose again. According to him, if he were to, for hypothetical example, go back in time and save people from death in order to accumulate more souls, he was going against Fate. Chloe, on the other hand, in using her ability to save them, was _changing_ Fate. Apparently, these were two entirely different things.

According to him, anyway. Chloe had come to know Castiel very well over the past few months, to understand his mission, how he had become the way he was. And through him, she learned the entire history of Sam and Dean.

The first time he had suddenly vanished mid-conversation to answer a call from one of them, Chloe had been more than curious. When he returned, she'd drilled him with questions about them. Eventually, she and Castiel had grown closer, and he had begun to confide in her, telling her stories not only about Heaven, but also about Sam and Dean, and their remarkable friendship with him.

But between his unpredictable visits, Chloe had to be "looked after." Apparently she was a secret weapon of sorts. If Raphael had known about her, he would have tried to use her, or worse still, to kill her so that no one could use her.

So Castiel had charged Balthazar with her protection, and Balthazar, true to his extravagant nature, had set her up in a luxurious penthouse, the likes of which she had never dreamt of affording. They had put the necessary protections up so that no other angels would be able to locate her, and her existence–unless you counted the occasional phone calls home to Lois–was kept generally secret. Perhaps "understated" was a better word, though. Lois believed that Chloe had received work as a star columnist to a travel journal, meaning she had no permanent address. Lois, though sorry to go so long without seeing her cousin, was happy that she had found work worthy of her talents, and most of all, she was happy that Chloe was happy, as Chloe frequently assured her she was.

And she was.

…mostly.

All right, admittedly, she was lonely. A little. Just a little.

But her personal life had been a small price to pay for being able to save Jimmy. To save countless people. That had been worth it.

Slowly, Chloe realized the water was growing cool, and she hurriedly reached to shut it off, stepping out of the shower to wrap herself in the towel again. She took another one and started toweling off her hair. She fished in her makeup bag and started to put on a fresh face. It was time to start facing the new world. Starting with the two men sitting in her living room.

* * *

><p>Dean paced the room impatiently.<p>

"Dude," Sam said, "you have been doing that for the last day and a half. Would you please sit the Hell down?"

Dean glanced up at Sam, who was sitting on the couch, following the news, looking for any signs that Castiel had decided to drastically change the world order.

So far, nothing major was showing up. But then, they supposed it was less this life than it was the after-life that was going to be getting a makeover.

Hopefully.

Dean looked at the door to Chloe's room. "How long does it take to take a damn shower?"

Sam burned a look at Dean. "Are you serious? She just literally _died_ for me. She can take as long as she wants in there."

"Yeah, but how do we know she's okay? Maybe she passed out or something."

"Or she's a girl and she just came back from the dead and she wants to spend an hour in the shower. Sit still."

But Dean couldn't sit still. He felt like he should be doing something. With everything that had happened in the last few days, it didn't feel like they had achieved the right to sit still.

But so far Castiel hadn't done anything Armageddon inducing. And what else could he do? If he tried to talk the rogue angel down, all he would accomplish was his own blood smears on the carpet.

And now that Sam was better, Dean had only one distraction: Chloe. He was fairly certain he could safely say that he had never met anyone like her...and that, that was not an easy accomplishment.

He glanced at her closed bedroom door again and made up his mind. He walked over and knocked on it.

"Yes?" her voice called through the door, and Dean realized he had missed the sound of the shower shutting off. Pushing the door open he stopped halfway in, his eyes wide when he spotted her in a towel.

"Um…."

Chloe flushed when she realized Dean had walked in and quickly dodged behind the door. Leaning her head around and grinning at him, she gestured toward the bed, her other hand carefully holding the towel in place. "Would you mind…?"

Dean looked at the bed without comprehension until suddenly recognizing that there were clothes laid out. Raising an eyebrow at the simple, bikini-style, cotton underwear and the lack of bra, he picked up her things and walked over to hand them to her.

She seized them quickly and vanished behind the bathroom door, shutting it in Dean's face. "Did you want something?" she asked through the door.

"Just checking that you were all right," he said.

"By barging in?" she laughed.

"Hey, you said to come in."

"I said 'yes.' Miscommunication on my part. Won't happen again."

"Pity," Dean said, and he head her snort on the other side of the door.

"You know," she said, "you are almost exactly what I imagined."

"That good or bad?" he asked.

Chloe opened the door, freshly clothed and finally in one piece again. "I haven't made up my mind," she smirked.

"So…are you good now?" he asked. "I mean, I've done the whole 'coming back from the dead thing, but it was _slightly_ different circumstances, so–"

"I could really go for some pizza," Chloe said easily, picking up a thick brown belt off the back of a chair and buckling it high on her waist. Dean watched with no small curiosity as she next walked automatically to her nightstand, putting on the wrist-length leather gloves as if it were a perfectly normal ensemble-piece. Then she moved toward the door for the living room, leaving Dean in her wake. "Hey, Sam. How are you?" she asked when she found him sitting on her couch.

Sam glanced up at her. "I'm incredible. Really. I owe y–"

But Chloe was already waving him off. "It's what I do. If you want to thank me, you can put that lovely mind to work picking a few pizza toppings." She tossed him the phone.

He laughed lightly, lifting the phone to her in toast. "You got it."

"Thanks, Sam," she said.

Dean, glaring at this calm interaction, nearly exploded. "Can we talk about how you just almost died and she just actually died, and any one of us could cease existing any second now!" He paused, looking wide eyed at them. When they didn't react, he waved his arms for emphasis, "AND _DIE_?"

"Dean, relax," Chloe said. "No one's going to die. At least, it's not likely. Castiel, if you ask me, is not likely to use his newfound power and…shall we say, 'role in the universe?'…to smite you. At least not anytime soon. He's–"

"How would you know?" Dean demanded.

"I know," Chloe said calmly, "because I know Castiel. Possibly better than you do," she added with a slight arch of her eyebrow.

"Don't you dare say that," Dean growled, and Sam jumped up, grabbing Dean's arm to hold him back. "He's like a brother to me!"

Chloe didn't move, allowing his breathing to stead before saying, "_Was_ like a brother to you. Or shall we call the past several months something of a family feud?"

Dean glared at her, and Sam threw her a dirty look. "We've had our own shit to deal with, you know," Sam said in reminder.

She lifted a shoulder, heading for the phone. "I'm sure you have. And we'll talk about it. But in the meantime, as your brother has so kindly pointed out, I just _died_, so I'd really like something to eat." And without waiting for argument, she dialed the pizza place. "Hi, yes, this is Chloe Sullivan, I'd like to place an order." She paused, waiting as someone spoke, and she gave a small smile. "Yes, _that_ Miss Sullivan…yes. I'd like two extra large. One with spinach, ricotta, sundried tomatoes, and Italian sausage. Mmhmm. And the other…" she glanced at the Winchesters momentarily, "Let's go with pepperoni and sausage. And extra napkins." She paused while they repeated the order back for her. "That's it," she grinned. "Thank you." She hung up and the boys looked at her questioningly.

"_That_ Miss Sullivan?" Dean mimicked condescendingly.

She shrugged. "I order a lot of pizza. Makes me feel normal to order pizza."

Sam chuckled. "Normal. What's that?"

She sent him an amused smile. But then she sat down. "So," she said. "I think we need to talk about what you're going to do."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"The two of you. The Winchesters. We need to talk about what you're going to do for the time being."

"Well…we were talking about it, and there's really nothing we can do about Cas."

"The douche is going to go out like a lite-brite plugged into a city's power grid," Dean stated grumpily, flopping down in a chair.

"Don't call him a douche," Chloe said.

"Oh I forgot," Dean said sarcastically. "You really think he's God now and that that's just fine and dandy."

"I'm not going to get into religion with you, Dean. I imagine it would be a rather pointless discussion. But for the record, while I have supported Castiel for the past year, I agree that he's gone a bit mad off the power."

"A bit?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Ya think?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's not the point. The point is that you need to start going about your regular lives."

Dean snorted. "We don't have regular lives."

"I mean normal for you," she qualified. "I think you should spend as little time as possible dwelling on the Castiel situation. You should get back on the road as soon as you can."

"She has a point," Sam said resignedly.

Dean said nothing, not wanting to admit he agreed, too. Something about the blonde made him want to pick a fight with her. Probably the fact that she'd kissed him two days ago, and he hadn't found an excuse to do it again, yet.

"So not to sound like I'm kicking you out or anything," Chloe said, "how soon do you think we can hit the road?"

Dean's attention snapped back into focus.

"We?" Sam and Dean repeated simultaneously.

Chloe smirked. "Oh, I'm coming with you."


	4. Chapter 4

–4–

Dean's eyes bugged out of his skull and Sam's jaw fell open slightly.

"What the hell did you just say?" Dean demanded.

Chloe checked her watch. "The pizza should be here in five," she informed them. "Can I get either of you a beer? I've got some coronas," she murmured, heading for the kitchen.

The brothers looked at one another.

"Did she just say–"

"She was coming with us?" Dean finished. "Oh yeah, and hell no," he said, rising and heading after her.

He found Chloe in her kitchen, attempting to reach something in a cabinet over her head. She glanced over her shoulder when Dean walked in and smiled at him. "Awesome. Gimme a hand here?"

"You're not coming with us." He crossed his arms and planted his feet.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, don't help me." She pulled a chair up from the small round table and set in front of the counter. Holding the back of it carefully she stepped onto it to reach the beer mugs. "And yes," she said as she successfully obtained three mugs, "I am coming with you. You need me."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her arrogance and the precarious way she was trying to lower herself from the chair with three mugs clutched in her arms, one in great danger of dropping to the floor. He walked over and took two of the mugs from her, setting them down on the island and turning around to find her just over an inch away. He forgot his comeback momentarily as she blushed and backed up a step. _What, _now_ she's shy? Two days ago she didn't mind laying one on me, _he thought irritably at her inconsistency. "We don't need you," he said instead, giving her a threatening look.

Her eyes glanced at the doorway behind Dean and she lowered her voice, "Um, yes, yes you do."

"What do you mean?" his eyes narrowed.

This time her eyes darted away evasively and she ducked away from Dean for the fridge. Grabbing three bottles of corona, she proceeded to pop the caps with a bottle-opener as she spoke. "I'm worried for Sam."

"What? He seems fine. You–"

"I _may_ have fixed it. I don't know."

"What do you mean 'you don't know?' You died! Doesn't that mean something?" he asked wildly.

Chloe took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. "Look–it's like I said, I've never done _anything_ like that before. And I don't think anyone's ever experienced what Sam has before. That kind of damage…" she took a deep breath. "There's a chance it could manifest again."

"_Manifest?"_ he echoed dubiously.

Her eyes darted toward the door a second time, not wanting Sam to overhear their conversation. "Look, the thing is that I _just don't know_. It makes me nervous. What happens if you get all the way across the country and suddenly he's back the way he was before I healed him?"

Dean swallowed nervously as the idea washed over them. It was true, there was nothing but time to tell them whether or not Sam was really going to be okay.

"It's just…well, for all I know I put a band-aid on the problem. That doesn't make it heal or stop it from getting infected. I just want to stick around for a while in case something goes wrong."

"And what happens if it does?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, then I do it again–"

"_Die_ again? Look, I don't think–"

"And once it's over we find someone who can really help. Like Ariel."

"Who?"

"Ariel. The archangel of healing. I think she would be willing to help if I were the one asking," she said more to herself than to Dean. "But let's hope we don't have to do that."

"Uh, _yeah_," Dean said sarcastically. "I think I've had about enough of angels for the next couple of years, thanks."

She shot him a chastising look. "The point is, I need to tag along with you guys for a while. And yes, I'll be the first to admit I'm just tagging along. I'm not a hunter by any means. And I'll do my best to help when I can but otherwise stay out of your way. In the meantime, I'm going to be trying to figure out what's going on in Heaven." She paused for a moment then, as if suddenly aware of how strange that statement was, even for her.

"And what about–I dunno. Don't you have family and crap? People who are going to wonder what you're doing with two guys you know nothing about?"

For some reason, Dean noticed, Chloe got very closed off, her voice implying that should he question her further on the topic, he would regret it. "There's no one to miss me. I haven't been in touch with friends or family for a while." It was true. The last time she'd e-mailed Lois had been about a month ago. Lois didn't worry because she had been told that Chloe occasionally traveled to places without internet access._ Still,_ she thought, _I need to get back to her soon._

"And you're sure we're not going to be arrested for kidnapping a week from now?" he asked, clutching at excuses not to take her.

She grinned. "Pretty sure. But you could always brush up on your harmonica playing just in case," she teased.

Before Dean could retort, the phone rang and Chloe left him to answer it. "Hello?" she asked. "Yes, put it on my account and send it up. Thank you." She hung up. "Pizza's here," she called from the living room to Dean, who was still in the kitchen.

Shaking his head and muttering about all the ways this could go wrong, Dean joined Chloe and his brother, who was clacking away on the computer, the blonde leaning over his shoulder with interest. Sam looked up questioningly when Dean entered, but Dean just shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, "So what've you got?"

"Poltergeist in Florida, from the looks of it," he said.

Chloe smiled. "Ooh, I'll pack my swimsuit, then."

* * *

><p>Two days later, Chloe was sitting in the backseat of the '67 Chevy Impala, ignoring the telephone lines streaming endlessly past her window, the sun setting in the background. Instead, she was deeply absorbed in something on her iPad. At a rapid pace she slid through window after window, eyes skimming each detail with an air of someone who was absorbing every last letter.<p>

Sam eventually, as an excuse to turn down the blaring radio, turned around in his seat to ask what she was doing.

"Researching poltergeists," she said simply, without looking up.

He chuckled. "Really?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "I was curious."

"What've you learned so far?"

"That the movie Poltergeist really wasn't quite as far off as one would think."

Sam smiled a little grimly. "Yeah. Well, I'll leave you to it, then," he said.

She nodded absently before he turned around.

Dean's eyes were on the road, but he listened to the brief exchange with interest. He glanced at her studious form in his rear-view mirror. "So what did you do before you were touched by an angel?" he asked with a trace of sarcasm.

He kept an eye on her reflection and raised an eyebrow at her unusual reaction to his question. She looked up from the iPad and blinked, her mouth opening and closing once before she answered.

"I…" she frowned. "Um, well, I was a reporter for a while."

"Like, newspaper or broadcast journalism?" Sam asked curiously.

"Newspaper. Definitely," she said with conviction. She paused thoughtfully. "And then for a while I worked for Queen Industries," she seemed to decide at length.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Kind of an odd job leap, isn't it?"

She looked out the window. "I guess."

Dean was about to ask what made her change jobs, but caught the warning look on Sam's face just in time. And indeed, when he glanced at Chloe in the mirror again, there was a very distant expression on her face, her eyes staring unseeingly out at the landscape rolling by.

The brothers raised their eyebrows at one another and then let it go for the moment, though Dean stored away a mental note about her strange behavior regarding her past. The next time he and Sam were alone, he was going to have Sam do a little research on their blonde companion.

A road sign listing a few motels and their distance in miles caught Sam's attention and he checked his watch. "I say we grab some dinner and crash for the night," he said.

Chloe didn't say anything in the back, her attention far away, but Dean nodded and pulled off at the next exit.

They went to a diner for dinner, and Chloe listened intently as Sam and Dean discussed the upcoming case, in which there had been suspicious circumstances at a beach house. the previous owner had died due to what the authorities had labeled a "gas leak." The current owners complained of electrical and structural problems.

At the motel, while Chloe raised no eyebrows at the quality of their proposed residence, she did insist on paying for the rooms, saying she might as well, since she was the only one with a legitimate credit card. Not having much argument for that logic, the boys had given in rather quickly and allowed her to purchase two adjoining rooms.

To Sam and Dean's surprise, Chloe vanished into her room almost immediately, saying she would see them in the morning and to sleep well.

Once separated from her companions, Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized how much she was subconsciously dreading questions about her past. When Dean asked what she used to do, it was like a montage of all the awful moments of the past couple of years flashed before her eyes. What _did_ she used to do? The question made her cringe. She used to have almost. Almost was a wonderful and horrible thing at the same time. She was always _almost_ where she wanted to be. Almost making a career at the Daily Planet. Almost married to a good man who loved her. Almost a hero. Almost happy.

She shook her head. She'd been doing a good thing since Castiel came into her life. Making up for past transgressions. She regretted that Castiel had gone so far off script, but things would turn out right; she was sure of it.

Nodding absently to herself in harmony with her now-ritualistic reassurances, Chloe sat down to her laptop and began the dreaded task of e-mailing Lois. She found she actually had an e-mail from Lois waiting on her.

_Chlo–_

_When, when, when are you going to come home for a visit! I'm missing my cousin like _crazy! _It's almost like the dark years. You know, before I came to Smallville and we only saw each other on holidays. Dark years, Chloe. Dark years. I can tell Clark misses you, too, and Oliver actually asked me about you the last time I saw him. I didn't even realize you two had gotten to be such good friends. (Consider that last a question. When did you two get to be such good friends?)_

_Things at the Planet are good. Clark stood me up for a date. Jerk. And don't try telling me to give him a second chance. I will if he earns it. But until then he's going to have to do a lot of penance. I don't like being stood up._

_Oh right…by the way I've decided I have a crush on Clark and he asked me out last week. Sorry, I forget what I have and haven't told you about. (It would help if you replied more often!)_

_Anyway, shit's been generally hitting the fan, and if my baby cousin doesn't get back to me soon, I'm going to be forced to conclude that you've been eaten by cannibals in South America. And then Clark will have to avenge your death, and we know how well THAT will go…_

_Mad Love, Lo_

Chloe smiled a little guilty at her cousin's sarcasm. Obviously it had been longer than Chloe realized since she last contacted Lois. She couldn't say she was surprised by the new development Lois and Clark's relationship. That had been a long time coming.

Scanning through the rest of her inbox, Chloe realized that true to Lois's ominous hint, there was actually an e-mail from Oliver as well.

_Chloe,_

_I'm still not sure where it is you've run off to, and the only thing stopping me from sending someone after you is that Lois assures me she hears from you and knows you're safe._

_If this is really about your career as a journalist, you know I would get you a job closer to home in a heartbeat._

_The team and I miss you. Let me know how you're doing, and we'll talk._

_Respectfully, Oliver_

_Oliver Queen CEO Queen Industries .org 321-555-0423_

Chloe sighed when she reached the end of this particular correspondence. Thanks to Castiel's Vulcan Mind Meld, her friends didn't remember anything about her marriage to Jimmy, but they _did_ remember her ill-fated relationship with Davis. She would never forget the look in Oliver's eyes when he asked her when she became one of the bad guys. Even though the team now believed that separating Davis from Doomsday had been successful, that didn't erase her guilt over what had _really _happened. She didn't have the stomach to go back and see the team's trusting, smiling faces. She was too ashamed.

Deciding _not_ to decide whether she should respond to Oliver, she opened a reply to Lois's e-mail, her fingers hovering over the keyboard hesitantly. Breathing a sigh, she leaned her head on her hand, resting her elbow on the desk, trying to think of what to say.


	5. Chapter 5

–5–

Chloe looked around the Kents' barn with a smile, breathing in the smell of hay baking in the sunlight that seeped through the rafters. Seeing a figure up in the loft, she headed for the stairs to go talk to Clark.

Without stopping to question the abnormality of her clothing, she lifted her skirts and started moving up the stairs, until someone called her name from behind. She turned and looked at the place she had been standing moments before and saw someone she had certainly not been expecting.

"Balthazar?" she exclaimed, eyes wide, turning on the stairway and forgetting about Clark entirely.

He smiled nonchalantly at her and Chloe blinked in confusion.

"Am I–"

"Dreaming?" he asked casually. "Yeah. Listen, love, you've still got that protection on your ribs, so I had to come see you this way." He glanced momentarily around the barn, raising an eyebrow just slightly. "Would you mind telling me where you are so we can have this conversation properly?"

"I–" she frowned, straining to remember reality now that she knew this wasn't it. "We're in a motel in Tennessee just off I-40."

* * *

><p>Chloe woke with a start, her head bouncing off her laptop's keyboard.<p>

"Falling asleep at our desk again, are we?" Balthazar said behind her, leaning easily against her bed. "I keep telling you what a terrible habit that is, darling."

Chloe just stared at him. "But you–"

"Died?" he offered, examining his finger nails patiently. "Yeah. Well, I'm bringing sexy back. Or something like that." He sniffed and looked at her. "Though I must say, it's been a real disappointment so far, the whole 'resurrection' thing. Your taste, I see, has dwindled to a dangerously low level." He looked at her questioningly. When she still appeared to be wrapping her mind around the part where he was alive, he got more to the point. "Traveling with the Winchesters, love? Such a lower class than your previous company," he said.

"Balthazar, how are you back? Did Castiel…do something?" she frowned.

Balthazar rolled his eyes indignantly. "Not exactly. But we'll get to that in a moment. By the way have you really not let go of that whole 'monster killed my ex-husband' thing? Not healthy to hold onto things like that, Chlo."

Stammering, Chloe blushed. "I–what–"

"That little dream I just interrupted? You were about to have the usual nightmare again."

The memory of her dream returned to her in a flash and Chloe realized she had in fact been wearing the wedding dress in it. She rubbed her brow. "It's been less frequent lately," she defended herself meekly.

Balthazar lifted a shoulder and dropped it. "Anyway, shall we talk about the fact that you're going for a road trip with Ferris and Cameron out there?"

Chloe shrugged. "They need help. I'm keeping an eye on Sam."

"Ah, I see. Playing Florence Nightengale as usual. Must you really stay in a roach motel, though? Surely you haven't run out of money yet?"

She snorted. "Right. I couldn't spend the amount of money you set me up with in ten _years_."

"Well, I'll just have your accounts topped off just in case," he said matter-of-factly. "But promise me you'll at least go for Best Western next time."

"The Winchesters prefer a low profile," she said with a small smile. "But for your sake, I'll see what I can do."

"Right, well on to it, then," he said in a tone that meant he was finally getting around to the reason he was there. "Wanna take a guess at who brought me back?"

Chloe bit her lip. "The only people I know might be capable of it…I really hope didn't do it."

"That's because it's someone _you_ haven't met," he said smugly.

"You mean–"

"The Big Boss?" he supplied. "That's the one, love. Daddy's home."

"Daddy?" she echoed in shock. "But I thought…"

"He'd gone on a long, long vacation?" Balthazar finished. "Didn't we all? Turns out his idea of a vacation isn't exactly an exotic destination."

"What? Well where is He?"

Balthazar smirked. "That's what I want _you_ to take care of."

"Me?"

"You. I want you to talk to the guy and get him to deal with Castiel."

"Balthazar, if Cas finds out about this, he'll–"

"What? Kill me? News flash, love. He's already done that. Castiel's acting like a child and needs a good spanking if you ask me."

Chloe rolled her eyes at his assessment but didn't bother arguing. "So you're telling me that you want _me_ to talk to God?" She shook her head, trying to grasp the idea.

"In person, if possible."

"What do you want me to do…die?"

"Don't be ridiculous, love. You're no fun dead. That's why we had that little glitch with your healing power ironed out. No, I want you to find him here. I think that's the only chance anyone really has of convincing him to…shall we say, 'deal with the family?'"

"But why can't you–I think you would be more qualified to–well, I mean, why me?"

"Because darling, I have other things to worry about–"

"Besides God?"

"–and you're infinitely more persuasive than I am. I'm not exactly respectful, am I? Grateful, yes, but respectable…well look at me. No, you'll be much more difficult to say no to."

"Balthazar, this is God we're talking about. He's not…He won't just–I can't just _talk_ to him."

"Why not? People pray all the time. Same thing, isn't it?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not sure how to respond to that.

"Excellent, well now that that's sorted, we'll need to figure out how you're going to find him."

"Will we?" Chloe said in a high-pitched voice, clearly not nearly as calm as Balthazar was about their goal.

"You'll need to talk to the prophets."

"The prophets?" she squeaked. "Because those are just running rampant, I suppose."

"You'll start with him," Balthazar ignored her, indicating a large stack of papers on her desk that Chloe hadn't noticed before. "You'll want to read that," he added. "But I suggest you start at the beginning of the series, personally. Should be interesting, given your–" he cleared his throat, smirking, "travel companions."

She frowned, glancing at the door that connected her room to the Winchesters' room and then back to the angel in front of her. "What?"

"They've met him, by the way. Good chums. You'll want to ask them how to find him once you've studied up, I imagine. But if not," he sighed as though he were hard put upon, "I suppose you can call me and I'll help you out."

"Balthazar, this is crazy. I can't just–"

"Chloe?"

Chloe's head whipped around to the door Sam's voice had just called through. Her eyes flew back to Balthazar, but he had already vanished.

"Chloe!" he called again, knocking on the door.

Shaking herself, she went over to let Sam in. "Sam?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"

He looked around in confusion. "I…don't know. I just, um, woke up and heard voices in here and I saw the light on and…." He trailed off sheepishly, obviously having wanted to check that she was all right.

"I'm fine. I just–" she broke off, hesitating. She wasn't sure whether or not to tell the Winchesters what had just happened. She decided to postpone the full story, but not to lie, either. She wanted them to be able to trust her, especially after what they had been through with Castiel. "I had a visitor. But I'll tell you about it tomorrow morning. You guys need to sleep," she said.

Sam frowned, looking around the room warily. "Was Cas here?"

"No," she assured him, though personally, she wouldn't have minded a visit from said angel.

"Okay," he said, a small amount of the anxiety draining from his face.

"You should go back to bed. Is Dean all right?"

"He's still asleep. He always sleeps heavy when we've been driving this long," he added.

Chloe nodded, having guessed as much. "I'll see you in the morning, Sam," she said kindly, but with a certain firmness that implied he was being dismissed.

He submitted quickly, wishing her a good night and closing the door behind him.

Chloe, with a brief shudder at the familiar nightmare that almost was, dismissed the idea of sleep altogether, and headed straight for the stack of papers Balthazar had left. They turned out to be a manuscript for an unpublished book in a series called _Supernatural_. Frowning at it, she remembered Balthazar's suggestion that she start at the beginning of the series. So, she sat down on her computer and pulled up the online bookstore to purchase the series for her e-reader. Cringing out of old habit at the final price, she clicked 'buy' and then downloaded them to the reader.

She put on her pajamas and crawled into bed, leaving on the nearest lamp so she could stay up reading.


End file.
